Sherlock Holmes and the Eventual Tentacles 1?
by Polly Oliver
Summary: A silly bout of IMing with a friend led to this ridiculousness. As the title advertises, there will eventually be tentacles. Possibly tentacle sex. I feel it is my duty to comply with rule 35 of the internet.


This was written in round robin style with a friend of mine (who wishes to be known as "nerdfancier") while we were IMing. More to come!

It is very silly, by the by.

DISCLAIMER: My most profound apologies to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and his wonderful characters. I am so, so sorry.

* * *

I sat before the fire with Holmes one smoggy afternoon, reading the paper while he lounged languidly on the settee. He was in his favorite chair opposite, one long leg thrown casually over the arm, his foot dangling provocatively just close enough to catch the edge of my newspaper.

_Dash it all_, I thought to myself, _it's bally well time I confessed myself to him!_ It was perhaps not the most preux thing to do, conceding one's rather illegal desires to one's flatmate, but there was nothing for it.

"Holmes," I said. "I, er, that is to say-I love you. What have you got to say to that?"

He looked up, surprised. "I know," he said, with an air of 'And your point is...?'

This stopped me. I mean, what on earth can one say in response to such a cavalier, nonchalant reaction to a revelation of such import? Not to mention that he was obviously quoting Harrison Ford, in complete and irresponsible disregard of the temporal conundrums incumbent therein.

"Er," I said eloquently. "Are you sure you take the full meaning of my declaration?"

"Surely you do not think that your proclivities had escaped me, my dear fellow," said Holmes. "Though I do not possess any first-hand experience of them, I am quite capable of reading the emotions of others. And I have had ample opportunity to observe you, in all the years we've chilled out as bros."

I must confess I was quite stunned at this speech. Also at Holmes' odd change in diction. It seemed somewhat anachronistic. The inconsistencies in register notwithstanding, I found myself at a loss to deal with the substantive implications of his words. Oddly enough, as that was a state to which I had grown quite accustomed during prolonged exposure to Holmes' company, the very confusion comforted me in its familiarity. It was enough to regain me my power of speech.

"But Holmes," I managed, "you might at least have said – implied –"

"There was no need," he assured me smoothly. "I have been observing a growing, shall we say, restlessness in your demeanor over the past few days. That, combined with a rather singular tendency to avoid me when your usual habit in the case of agitation is to seek me out, alerted me to the imminence of this, or a very similar, conversation." He paused. "That, and the fact that in your sleep last night you called out, 'Sherlock, take me now!' "

"What!" I exclaimed, all the blood draining from my face. I dropped my newspaper. "I-what-I didn't-you-blast!" I'm afraid I spluttered rather incoherently for several minutes, but Holmes interrupted me.

"Watson, there is no need to be embarrassed. It is perfectly natural to exhibit such outbursts when one is in the grip of some overwhelming emotion. Or so I've heard. And might I congratulate you on your taste? I'm rather a fine specimen of manhood, I've been told, but apart from that, the object of your affection has the most brilliant mind in Europe, if not the world. Excepting, perhaps, my brother Mycroft, but then, I never had you down as a 'chubby chaser.'"

Holmes looked extremely self-satisfied. Too self-satisfied. I began to be not a little suspicious, and raised my eyebrow at him. He raised his eyebrow back. We had an eyebrow war for a few moments, until I happened to glance down at his trouser front and my mouth gaped open in shock.

With an effort, I wrenched my gaze back to his face, to see him regarding me with a faint smile, and then of their own volition my eyes seemed to drift back downwards. To my simultaneous horror and – it both thrilled and alarmed me – pleasure, I sensed that the skirmish begun with words and continued with eyebrows had now changed battleground. I hurriedly lowered my newspaper to preserve my dignity, but Holmes stretched out his foot and casually flicked it from my grasp.

The state I was in not being conducive to clear thought, I had apparently mistaken the poker for my newspaper, so when Holmes flicked it out of my grasp, it collided rather painfully with my groin, which was rather sensitive at the mo. I let out a sound something like, "Ngaaanh!" and Holmes rather thoughtfully came to my aid, stroking the tender region with the palm of his hand.

"Shall I kiss it and make it better?" he asked, solicitously.

I was attempting to say something to the effect of "What?" when Holmes forestalled me by putting his suggestion into practice. Despite the severe impediment this presented to conversation, his mouth being occupied and my linguistic capacity being relegated to the rather unimportant categories of consciousness, I recovered myself enough to protest, "But you're sure? Won't the good Mrs. Hudson object to the use we are making of the rooms she strives to keep tidy?"

Holmes disengaged himself long enough to say, "Mrs. Hudson, I rather suspect, will find these developments unsurprising. It is a fact I find most illuminating, Watson, that often the last person to discover a man's secret is himself." And as I found even that short speech nearly interminable, the last of my objections disintegrated.

At some point during the proceedings, Holmes remarked, "Ah, it is almost exactly as I expected. You bear the hallmarks of your military history, your daily consumption of small quantities of red meat, and your predilection for fine whiskey. And – ah, this is less in line with my predictions; Watson, I must register in no uncertain terms my disapproval. Cocaine is an execrable habit, particularly in one who does not make use of it for the purpose of sharpening his mental acuity. I suppose it was the emotional distress of these last few days that led you to this extremity?"

I took that last rather to mean 'Don't steal my cocaine, bitch' but passed over this to wonder what made him come to the conclusions he had, which, by the by, were entirely accurate as usual.

"Holmes," I began, "what made you come to these conclusions?"

A smug look made itself known upon my companion's countenance. "For several years now I have been studying the effects of diet and life style upon the taste of bodily fluids. Many of these tests have been conducted upon myself, of course, as I can more readily observe my own habits than those of others, as well as out of a desire to remain discreet, but I have collected enough information to have written a monograph on the subject only last April. I was not able to publish it in England, for obvious reasons, but it did cause a bit of a stir among the medical community of Europe for a time-until the intent of it was misunderstood and it began circulating as purely pornographic material." He concluded this speech with a thoughtful frown, as though he disapproved of those poor misguided folk who took his article in the wrong light. Meanwhile, I hastily buttoned up my trousers and leapt away from his kneeling form as soon as I saw what he was driving at.

"Holmes, you do not just tell someone that sort of thing right after gratifying them with your mouth!" I reproached him in something of a raised voice. He winced a bit at the volume and opened his mouth to speak. "No!" I shouted over him. "This will not do. I, I-You're inhuman, Holmes! Are you not affected in any way by what we have just done?"

"Watson, I'm surprised at you," he began. "I thought I'd made it clear-"

"You make nothing clear, Holmes. I-must leave." And with a stifled sob, I threw on my coat and departed into the twilit streets of London.


End file.
